


Wait Until You're Ready

by thisisntreallymeimnotreallyhere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Magic!Sam, Memory Loss, mer!cas, sailor!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisntreallymeimnotreallyhere/pseuds/thisisntreallymeimnotreallyhere
Summary: Dean is unfairly thrown overboard after being falsely accused of a crime. Luckily, a merman named Cas is there to rescue him. Unluckily, Dean loses his memory so now Cas is going to have to take care of him until help arrives. Just the two of them in an isolated, one room cabin. What could possible happen?





	Wait Until You're Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my artist for being a true muse and for being so patient with me as I wrote this!
> 
> I immediately loved the artwork that dreamsfromthebunker submitted for this fic! There was so much possibility there! The link for her masterpost on Tumblr is [here](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/174700409570/deancasereversebang2018waituntilyourereadyart).
> 
> I had so much fun writing this story so I hope you enjoy reading it! Come yell at me on Tumblr [here](http://thisisntreallymeimnotreallyhere.tumblr.com/).

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/142504928@N05/28951218198/in/dateposted-public/)  


Dean wishes he could see green one last time. Out here, blue is easy to come by - there’s the blue of the sky and the blue of the water - but the only green that he gets to see is the muted, sun bleached green that lingers in people’s clothing. He misses the dark green of the forest, the light green of the grass, the bright green of apples and butterflies and moss. If he had know he was never going to see green again he would have taken longer to look at it. Too late now.

“You have been accused of mutiny against your captain as well as the murder of one of your fellow sailors. How do you plea?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean answers, but he knows it’s useless.

He knows that Captain Turner knows that he’s innocent but the rest of the crew have been convinced otherwise by the backstabbing Ketch, if that’s even his real name. From what Dean’s been able to piece together, Ketch somehow managed to convince them that Dean was the one who killed Mick even though Dean had no reason to want him dead. Hell, he liked Mick. But no amount of yelling or reasoning would change their minds. Dean had run out of energy days ago trying to convince them. Now here he is, too emotionally drained to even bargain for his own life. Why had the captain waited so long to pass the sentence, anyway?

“All of the evidence suggests otherwise,” Dean hears Ketch say somewhere behind him. The rest of the crew murmurs their agreement.

“Quiet!” Captain Turner yells. “Ain’t no one captain but me.”

Thankfully there’s silence. Dean uses it to listen to the wind in the sails, the slap of the water against the hull, the sound of his own breath. He knows what’s coming next.

“Dean Winchester,” the captain starts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You have been found guilty of murder and mutiny, the punishment for which is death. You are sentenced to walk the plank. Do you have any last words?”

Dean thinks of all the things he could say, all the insults he could yell at Ketch - all the bargains he could try to make with the captain - but he knows they’re all useless. Instead, he shakes his head. What’s the use?

“Step forward,” the captain says as he motions for someone to tie Dean’s hands and feet. Whoever it is makes sure to tie the rope tight enough so that Dean can’t escape but loose enough so that he can walk on his own. When that’s done the captain takes him by the arm and leads him toward the opening in the railing.

When they are standing far enough away from everyone else the captain lowers his voice so that only Dean can hear. “There’s nothing I can do about the crew or the trial, but this isn’t the end.” Dean feels him place something around his neck.

Sam’s necklace.

Dean had been stripped of his possessions when he had been thrown into the brig. He hadn’t cared about the few books they had taken from him, but the necklace had been a gift from his brother several years ago and Dean had treated it like a valuable heirloom. Now, as the captain steps back, he feels the weight of the charm against his chest and realizes that he’ll never see his brother again. It’s this thought that finally breaks him. Sam will have no one left in the world and it will be all Dean’s fault because Dean hadn’t been smart enough to stay alive.

“Can you get a message to my brother?” Dean yells, but the captain can’t hear him over the sound of the crew calling for him to jump. Someone - maybe Ketch, more likely one of his croonies - starts kicking the end of the gangplank in an effort to shake Dean off balance.

He’s too shocked to think straight. He remembers vaguely that he had a plan to jump into the water so that he could at least control the landing but now, with the noise and the panic setting in, his legs are shaking and he can’t think straight. The mist from the waves has made the wood too slick to balance on properly so when someone gives a particularly hard kick to the gangplank he loses his balance and falls.

He lands hard enough on his elbow to hear it crack. He sees stars as his head hits the wood but he doesn’t have time to process the pain or worry about the consequences. The world is coming in flashes. He’s sure he’s panicking, might even be crying, but there’s no space to think, no time to breath. He feels like he’s flying. Or maybe he’s falling.

All of a sudden there’s water all around him and he realizes that he’s about to die.

\-----

Castiel has been following the same ship for the past half hour. The symbols and warding on the ship’s underside indicate that it’s a friendly ship but he follows from a safe distance just in case. There have been instances in the past where captains and crews have claimed to be friendly but turned out to be scoundrels instead. So far, this ship has done nothing to indicate hostility although Castiel can’t tell what’s going on above the surface.

He doesn’t mind being this far away from home, anyway. In fact, he volunteered for this patrol since no one else seemed to want it. But Castiel likes the quiet, likes the way the water is calmer and the sunlight plays along the bottom of the sea. He wonders why he doesn’t come out here on his own more often. He lets his mind wander aimlessly as he follows the wake of the ship. Any minute now it will cross the border into open water and he won’t have to follow it anymore.

He starts to pay closer attention to the ship when he registers a commotion coming from that direction. The ship hasn’t changed course or tried to stop, but something is going on, he’s sure of that much. He sees something fall overboard but he can’t exactly tell what it is. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s not something, but someone.

Castiel isn’t very familiar with the ways of humans but he knows that that’s unusual. He watches curiously as the person sinks lower and lower into the water. Shouldn’t the man at least try to swim?

With the ship now a safe distance away, Castiel decides to swim closer to the person in the water. There’s nowhere for him to hide but he’s not concerned for his safety because the person - a man, he sees now - who jumped doesn’t seem to be making any threatening movements. In fact, Castiel realizes, he’s not making any movement at all. It takes another moment for Castiel to notice the ropes that are tying his hands and feet.

Castiel swims faster until he’s floating above the man who has now landed on the soft sand of the sea floor. He isn’t sure what to do. Should he go get help? No, he just remembered that humans can’t go without air for more than a few minutes. If he goes to get help the man will surely be dead before he gets back. But what if this man did something bad and he’s being punished? For all Castiel knows, the human might try to hurt him even after Castiel has saved his life.

As if looking for a clue, Castiel searches the man’s face for anything that might help him decide what to do. Of course he finds nothing except for tanned skin and the sun bleached hair of a sailor. There’s some stubble growing along his jawline that was hard to see from far away. Even so, with his eyes closed and his face at rest, the man looks too young to die.

That’s the thought that finally sinks into Castiel’s brain. _This man is too young to die._ Without bothering to worry about the consequences, Castiel pulls the man close to his chest and swims towards the surface.

  
[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/142504928@N05/28951218408/in/dateposted-public/)  


Castiel sighs and adds more logs to the fire. He’s tired from swimming so far in one day, even more so for dragging an unconscious man with him. Thankfully, as soon as Castiel reached the surface the man had started to cough and gasp for air. He didn’t wake up, though, which was unfortunate since Castiel had a long way to go.

It had taken him the better part of the afternoon to make it where he wanted to go. When he finally got to the deserted stretch of beach that he had been looking for he had shed his fins and tucked them away safely behind a rock. Using his human legs, he had dragged the man up the small hill into a deserted cabin. Castiel wasn’t used to using his legs, so this task took considerably more effort than he had expected. By the time he was done the sun was getting ready to set.

He had searched through the small, one room cabin until he found a knife sharp enough to cut the ropes that were binding the man’s hands and feet. Even so, it took a while to cut them due to the fact that the knife wasn’t as sharp as it should have been, but eventually Castiel got the ropes off. The man groaned in pain when Castiel tried to move him into a more comfortable position. It had been too dark outside to notice before but now that he was paying attention Castiel could see the large bruise on the man’s right arm.

He tried to be as gentle as possible as he stripped the man of his clothes before laying him on the only bed in the room. He had found some musty smelling blankets and draped them over the man in an effort to warm him up faster. At least the blankets were dry, Castiel reasoned, unlike the man’s clothes. After a brief search he had found some wood and a flint box. It took him several tries to get a fire going but eventually he figured it out. Once that was taken care of he laid the man’s clothes out to dry and then searched through the cabin until he found something for himself to wear.

By now the stars were starting to come out. Castiel had always loved the stars, even if he spent most of the time looking at them from below the surface. There was something comforting about them, so silent and far away and beautiful. Not for the first time Castiel wondered why he didn’t shed his fins more often, if only to enjoy the sight of the stars from land.

Castiel brings his attention back to the man in the bed who is stirring in his sleep. He tries to call out but his voice is scratchy and hollow from swallowing so much salt water. His youthful face is pinched with worry and concern, so much so that Castiel wants to reach out and smooth away the worry lines. But there’s nothing more that Castiel can do for him tonight. Eventually the man falls back asleep.

Castiel sighs and adds more logs to the fire.

\-----

It’s the sun that wakes him up the next morning. Castiel hadn’t even realised that he had fallen asleep. He tries to flip his fins but all he succeeds in doing is kicking a small rock by his feet. Slowly he starts to remember the events from yesterday that led him here to land. He sits up, looks around, and is surprised to find the man still sleeping on the bed. Castiel was sure that he was going to wake up in the middle of the night and run away.

He stands up and walks across the room. There’s more color in the man’s face and his forehead isn’t pinched in worry anymore. Castiel takes that as a good sign. He wonders if he should wake him up, but decides to let him sleep for as long as necessary. It’ll be stressful enough for him when he wakes up, and Castiel would like to gather his thoughts before he has to tell his version of the story. In an effort to keep himself busy he wanders outside to see if there are any useful herbs or plants he can use to help heal the man’s bruises.

He doesn’t find exactly what he needs but he does find some passable substitutes. He starts picking what he needs and laying everything out in the sun to dry. He’s been working for about half an hour when he hears a noise coming from behind him. He turns to see the man, thankfully dressed in the clothes that Castiel left for him, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” The man looks around at the deserted landscape before his gaze eventually settles on Castiel. “Who are you?”

“I’m the one that saved you yesterday,” Castiel explains. “I brought you here, where you could rest and be safe.”

A brief flash of shock crosses the man’s face before his expression turns to panic.

“I don’t remember.”

\-----

“So they just… they left?”

It’s the third time Castiel has had to explain what happened to the man. Considering all that there is to process Castiel is surprised that he’s is taking everything so well.

“I saw you fall into the water and then I watched your ship sail away, yes,” Castiel says in what he hopes is a patient tone.

“And the markings on the hull?”

“Signs of friendship that allow ships to pass through merfolk territory without causing alarm.”

The man sighs and tries to shift to a more comfortable position. His right arm is cradled in a makeshift sling that Castiel fashioned for him. It’s not much, but the arm isn’t broken after all, just badly sprained, so the sling is all he needs. Still, it’ll take a while to heal. Castiel had offered to stay with the man while he recovered to make sure that nothing else happened to him. If their situations were reversed Castiel is sure that he would want someone to be kind to him, too.

“And I was tied up when you found me?”

Castiel patiently takes him through the story one more time. He tells him how he pulled him to the surface and then swam with him until he reached the shore. He explains about the fitful night of sleep, the stress and shock on his face.

“What now?” he asks. “I mean, do we wait here or do we go get help?”

“I suggest that we wait here,” Castiel tells him. Out of the two of them, he’s much more calm so he considers himself more capable of looking at their situation objectively. “The nearest village is a two day walk from here. If you let your arm heal first it’ll be easier for you to make the journey. Besides, a few days of rest might be all you need to regain your memory.”

The man is silent as he processes the situation. Castiel has already come to the realization that there’s nothing to do but wait, but he also knows that he can’t force the man to stay here if he doesn’t want to. Eventually, however, the man nods in agreement.

“So we’re stuck here for who knows how long, and I can’t remember a damn thing.”

“We’re stuck here until your arm heals,” he reminds him gently. “And who knows? Your memory might come back on its own.”

“Sure,” he says but Cas can’t tell if he really means it. “Can’t you just magic my memory back?”

“Merfolk magic doesn’t work like that. It’s more… practical. Natural.”

“That’s just great,” he huffs. Castiel is absolutely sure this time that he doesn’t mean it. “Can you practically, naturally magic us up some lunch?”

Castiel smiles at his resilience. “I can do that.”

\-----

Castiel was worried that they’d have to survive on plain fish for the foreseeable future but it seems that his worry was in vain. When he gets back to the cabin with his catch he sees that his patient has made good use of his time and found some suitable vegetables and herbs for them to use to brighten up their meal.

“I… I can’t wash them or help prepare them,” he stammers, shrugging his shoulder as if to remind Castiel of his injured elbow. “But I know how to find them, at least.”

“It’s still helpful,” Castiel reassures him. “And also very impressive. I’m surprised you remember herbology.”

“Yeah, well. I guess it’s like walking and talking, you know. It’s just something I know how to do.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says as he combines everything with the fish. “This will make a wonderful meal.”

The man turns away but Castiel notices the slight blush that he tries to hide. He isn’t sure what he said to make the man embarrassed so he decides to ignore the reaction and talk about something else.

“What name would you like me to call you?”

The question seems to startle him a little bit but he quickly hides his reaction with a small chuckle.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” he says. “Just pick one.”

Castiel smiles softly at him. “I don’t think you’ll like merfolk names,” he says. “Unless you like Balthazar or Uriel?”

“Uh, no. You’re right,” the man laughs. This time it seems genuine. “Let’s see…” he leans against the wall next to the stove and watches Castiel cook their lunch. Castiel can tell that he’s lost in thought so he stays quiet and waits.

“What about Michael?” the man finally says. “I think that’s a common name for humans and merfolk?”

“It is,” Castiel confirms. “Michael. How does it feel?”

“Strange, not right. But it’ll do for now,” he answers.

“You don’t have to choose Michael,” Castiel reminds him. “It’s your name, after all.”

“It doesn’t matter what name I pick,” the man reasons. “Until I get my memory back they’re all going to be wrong.”

“Michael it is, then,” Castiel agrees. “Just in time, too. Lunch is ready.” He divides the food evenly between two plates and then places them both on the table. Michael sits across from him and awkwardly tries to balance his fork with his left hand.

“So, Cas,” he says, “tell me about yourself.” His tone is friendly but firm, and Castiel knows that he isn’t comfortable talking about himself anymore.

“There’s not much to tell,” he admits.

“It’s more than I have,” Michael jokes, but Castiel can hear the worry in his tone. “Come on, what else are we going to talk about?”

Castiel smiles at the logic. He’s never been one to open up so quickly to a stranger, but Michael is right. There’s nothing else for them to talk about. So Castiel tells him about his life. About his childhood that was lonely but not necessarily unhappy. About looking up to his older brothers who eventually left their nest to find adventure.

“I’m not sure if they found it,” he admits. “They never came home.”

“I’m sure they’re busy rescuing their own wayward strangers,” Michael says in an effort to comfort him. Castiel smiles at the thought of his brothers somewhere out in the world doing good things for people.

“Playing tricks on people is more likely,” Castiel says. “I always wondered if I should follow their example.”

“You gonna start playing tricks on me, Cas?”

“No! What I meant was… Oh, you were joking.” Castiel watches as Michael laughs at his foolishness. It wasn’t a malicious laugh, though. It was bright and cheerful, and Castiel finds himself laughing along after a moment.

“Are all merfolk this clueless?” Michael asks.

“No, just me, I’m afraid.”

“Well, don’t change,” Michael tells him.

It’s a strange compliment, one Castiel would never have expected, but he finds himself smiling anyway. It encourages him to tell more stories about his life - about how he came to be in just the right place at just the right time to save Michael’s life. Michael seems attentive and interested. He even asks questions and pokes fun at some of Castiel’s more lighthearted stories. His laughter is never at Castiel’s expense, though, for which he is grateful.

By the time he’s done talking the sun is starting to set. Michael is shifting uncomfortably in his seat so Castiel reapplies the medicinal balm that he made to soothe the ache and reduce the swelling in his arm. He can feel Michael watching him as he works, but he ignores it as best he can, focusing on his work and being as gentle as possible. Michael smiles at him when he’s done and Castiel’s heart flutters. He straightens up and steps away before he has any other strange reactions.

“You should take the bed,” Castiel tell him. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

“Where will you sleep?” It’s an innocent question but Castiel feels himself blushing at the implications.

“I was quiet comfortable in front of the fire last night,” he lies.

“I’m not… It’s just…” Michael starts to say before taking a deep breath and starting again. “There’s enough room on the bed for two people. You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says, and means it. “But I don’t want to jostle your arm. Besides, I could always go sleep in the sea.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up, though? Right?” Michael looks genuinely frightened that Castiel would abandon him.

“I’ll be here,” Castiel reassures him. “I won’t leave until you’re ready to be on your own.”

Michael seems satisfied with that answer, enough so that he takes the bed for himself without any further protest. Castiel lays down in front of the fire and sleeps as best he can.

\-----

They spend the next few days in comfortable companionship. Castiel goes fishing before every meal and Michael scavenges for vegetables and herbs. It’s not long before Michael is pestering him to start a small garden next to the cabin. Castiel wonders why he would go to so much trouble to create something that he might end up abandoning, but he humors him and clears a patch of land anyway. It will be a few weeks before the vegetables are ready to harvest but the herbs grow fast enough for them to use almost immediately.

With nothing else to occupy their time Castiel teaches him to play a game that is popular among merfolk involving pebbles and seaweed. He’s amazed at how fast Michael masters the rules and is even more amazed when he ends up winning a few times. Memory loss or not, there was no denying that Michael was smart.

“Perhaps they threw you overboard because you had deciphered the map to Atlantis and they were furious when you wouldn’t give it to them.”

It was a game they had started playing almost immediately. One of them would make an outrageous claim as to why Michael had been thrown overboard then the other would try to one-up the previous statement with an equally outrageous theory.

“But what they didn’t know was that I had burned the map and the only way to get to Atlantis was if I lead them there!”

“Why didn’t you tell them that before you were thrown overboard?”

“Oh, I tried to,” Michael says, leaning into Castiel’s space, as if Castiel would be crazy enough to pay attention to anything else. “But they thought I was lying. They found a hidden stack of books in my trunk and thought they would be able to find the map in there so they threw me overboard. One less person to split the treasure with.”

“You know there’s no real treasure in Atlantis, right?”

“I was… It’s just…” Michael stammers before sighing and looking fondly at Castiel. “I do now.”

“I can take you there one day,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “It’s not a secret,” he adds to try to hide his blunder.

Instead of getting excited like Castiel though he would, Michael turns away from him and gazes out at the sea. “Yeah, one day,” he agrees, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Of course I would take you,” Castiel reassures him. “All friends of merfolk are welcome there.”

“I know you would,” Michael says. “It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“What if…” Michael kicks some rocks by his feet while he gathers his thoughts. “What if I get my memory back and I really am a bad person?”

He had spoken so quietly that Castiel had to step closer to hear him properly.

“Whatever happens next, whatever your past experiences turn out to be, you are a good man. I don’t have to know your history to know that about you.”

For a moment Castiel thinks that Michael is going to argue the point. Thankfully, he smiles instead.

“Whatever you say, Cas.”

Castiel can tell that he only half believes it, but he’ll count it as a win if Michael doesn’t argue with him. They spend the rest of the afternoon tending to the garden. When evening rolls around Michael helps him prepare dinner, as usual. Afterwards, Castiel goes through his nightly routine of checking Michael’s arm to make sure it’s healing properly.

“Sleep with the sling on, just in case, but try going without it tomorrow to see how it feels.”

“Will do, doc,” Michael answers. He’s close enough that Castiel can feel his breath against his cheek. Every other night Castiel has ignored it, or pulled away, but tonight he looks up and meets Michael’s gaze. He wants to say something, should say something, but he’s too mesmerized by look in Michael’s eyes to think clearly. He leans in a little bit, not sure what’s going to happen next, when Michael suddenly flinches and pulls away.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel stammers, stepping back quickly.

“No, it’s not…” Michael stands up and tries to reach for him but drops his hand when he sees the look on Castiel’s face. “It was my arm,” he tries to explain. “It twisted wrong.”

“I should let you sleep,” Castiel tells him. He begins to clear away the herbs and ointment.

“Cas, please.”

“I told you,” he says, giving Michael his full attention. “I won’t leave until you’re ready to be on your own.” He says it as gently as possible and is relieved to see Michael lose the tension in his shoulders. “We have tomorrow, at least,” he adds when it looks like Michael is going to say something.

“Yeah,” Michael finally agrees. “Tomorrow.” There’s so much emotion in his gaze that Castiel can’t help but stare. How can Michael not believe in his own goodness? He’s the most pure soul that Castiel has ever met.

He whispers good night before blowing out the candles and curling up on front of the fireplace.

\-----

Tomorrow turns out to be more challenging than Castiel had expected. For starters, it’s raining which means they can’t spend as much time outside as they usually do. The morning is spent cooking enough food for the rest of the day so that Castiel doesn’t have to go back out and fish in the rain. After that is taken care of, Castiel removes Michael’s sling and begins to teach him some stretches that will help his arm heal faster.

In order to pass the time as well as distract himself from further conversation with Michael he begins to clean the cabin. He moves furniture around and goes through the cupboards to find anything that might be useful. He finds a hammer and some nails, broken glass, and an old spyglass. He can feel Michael’s gaze on him wherever he goes, but he’s still working up the courage to do anything about it. Thankfully it’s Michael who finally breaks the wall of silence hanging between them.

“I figured it out,” he says, interrupting Castiel as he’s dusting the windowsills. “I figured out why you’re avoiding me.”

Castiel looks up and sees a defeated expression on Michael’s face. He begins to grow concerned about the ideas swirling around in his head. Instead of putting words in Michael’s mouth, however, he waits for Michael to finish his thought.

“You’re avoiding me because you’re planning to leave as soon as I get my memory back. Which is fine, I can’t stop you. I just wish you would say so.”

Castiel moves across the room until he’s standing directly in front of Michael. “No, that’s not it at all,” he says with as much conviction as he can.

“Then what is it? Because last night I thought…”

“You weren’t wrong,” Castiel assures him. He takes a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. “I’m scared you’re eventually going to remember that you have a family. Or that you… that you care for someone else. I’m scared that I’m the one that’s going to be left behind.”

“That’s not going to happen, Cas.”

“But how can you be sure?” The look on Michael’s face says it all. He can’t be sure. Neither of them can. So is it worth the risk to indulge this attraction between them?

“Here’s what I know,” Michael says, taking a step closer. “Absolutely nothing. Everything that you said could be true, or it could be your imagination running away with you. For all you know I could be a second rate sailor, moving from port to port until my crewmates got tired of me and tossed me overboard.”

Castiel wants to protest, to tell him that he’s worth much more than that, but Michael reaches out and takes his hand shocking him into silence.

“Here’s what I know,” he continues. “I would stay here with you if you asked me to.”

“You don’t even know what it is you’d be giving up,” Castiel points out.

“No,” Michael agrees. “But I know what I’d be gaining.”

Castiel can’t argue with that. He also knows exactly what he’d be gaining if they decide to stay together. And really, what’s he risking except his own loneliness?

Michael must see the acceptance in his expression because his gaze drifts down to Castiel’s mouth. He leans in just enough to rest their foreheads together, drawing out the moment and driving Castiel crazy. All he has to do is whisper Castiel’s name and the last of his resistance falls away. Castiel tilts his head up and presses his lips against Michael’s.

Castiel expects the world to fall away around them like he had heard about in stories but instead he is rooted in place, keenly aware of every breath they share, every whimper from Michael, the beat of the rain against the window. This moment is sharp and clear and he knows that he’ll remember it for the rest of his life. He lets Michael pull him closer, follows willingly as he leads him to the bed. There’s still so much to say, so much that could change, but for now Castiel is content with this. They lay down next to each other, wrap themselves around each other, and take comfort in the touches and kisses and whispers of adoration.

Castiel isn’t foolish enough to think that this is love, but it’s the closest thing to it that he’s ever experienced. He can feel the edges of it, the shape of this thing between them, all the possibility that it holds. It’s small now, but it’s solid, and it will grow if they let it. Castiel opens his heart to make more room. They kiss and hold on to each other but neither of them pushes for more. For now, this is enough.

\-----

He wakes up the next morning still wrapped in Michael’s arms. He watches as the sunlight slides across his face, until he finally wakes up. He tries to keep his heart from fluttering as Michael smiles at him, wishes him good morning, pulls him closer. The kisses that they share are much more chaste than those they shared last night but no less powerful. At least not for Castiel. The way Michael is touching him he’s sure that he’s not the only one who is affected.

Castiel is tracing the curve of Michael’s jawline when his fingers brush against a small chain around Michael’s neck. Curious, he pulls it out and recognizes the necklace that he pulled off of him along with the rest of his clothes the first night in the cabin. He had completely forgotten about it.

“I figured that we might be able to trade it for something useful when we finally walk to the village,” Michael explains.

“I think it might be more valuable than that,” Castiel tells him, examining the charm more closely. It’s small and worn around the edges, obviously a momento that’s been carried around for a long time. There’s a face fashioned onto the front in the shape of a human god that even Castiel knows about. It’s the back of the trinket that catches his attention.

There are markings etched onto the surface that Castiel is sure have meaning. It’s been a while since he studied runes, but the longer he studies the writing the more he remembers. Eventually he figures out that he’s reading a spell. It’s a simple spell, granted, but with such a small space it’s amazing that the author was able to fit it at all. The spell is a call for help to a person named Sam.

“Does that name sound familiar to you?” Castiel asks. He turns to look at Michael whose forehead is scrunched up in concentration.

“It’s… I don’t know,” he finally manages to stammer out.

Castiel takes pity on him and turns his attention back to the runes. He reads the spell out loud trying to master the pronunciation in the hopes of understanding it better. All too late he realizes his mistake. A small orb of light rises from the trinket and hovers in front of them for a moment. He scolds himself for not realizing that a verbal command was all it would take to activate the spell. Of course something this simple wouldn’t require any ingredients. Irrationally he tries to reach out and grab it, to try to hold it back, but it’s too late. The light skitters away across the room, through the wall, and out of sight.

He briefly considers trying to chase after it but he knows that he’ll never be able to catch up. He considers throwing the trinket into the sea and pretending as if this never happened but he realizes that Sam, whoever he is, will eventually get the call for help no matter what Castiel does. He turns to Michael, but he looks as dumbfounded as Castiel feels.

\-----

Castiel half expects everything to change as soon as the spell is cast, but frustratingly nothing does. The rest of the afternoon passes much like any other with cooking and conversation, but there’s now the added benefit of stolen kisses throughout it all. Michael seems hesitant at first, as if he’s worried that Castiel will push him away, so Castiel makes sure to lean into every kiss and even steal some of his own. By the afternoon Michael looks much more relaxed.

They don’t talk about it during the routine of their day. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that it happened. But at night, when they’re lying together in bed, it’s harder to ignore.

“What if we just run away?” Michael inevitably asks.

“We’re not going to do that,” Castiel tells him.

“It would be so easy,” he argues.

“Maybe,” Castiel agrees. “But you deserve to know about your life before you willingly give it up.” Michael starts to argue but Castiel cuts him off. “I keep telling you, I won’t leave until you ask me to.” Castiel can tell that he’s still worried about what will happen when Sam shows up but at least he stops pestering him about running away.

As the days drag on Castiel begins to wonder if he’s worrying for nothing. Maybe the spell lost its magic before it even reached Sam. The charm looked worn out when Castiel had examined it, maybe Sam isn’t even able to receive the call for help anymore. He knows it’s all wishful thinking but it becomes easier and easier to believe the longer they have to wait. Until one day all of his daydreams come crashing down.

It’s early evening when Michael looks out the window and calls for Castiel’s attention. There’s a figure walking towards them from the direction of the village. Castiel immediately knows who it is, and he knows that Michael knows too, but neither of them make a move to greet their visitor.

“Maybe someone from the village saw the smoke from the chimney,” Michael reasons.

“Maybe,” Castiel replies. But he knows that they only have a few minutes left before the illusion shatters. He takes Michael’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

All too soon the person is knocking on the front door. Castiel waits for Michael to make the first move but when nothing happens Castiel gets up and opens the door.

“You must be Sam,” he says as he examines the man standing in front of him. He’s taller than Castiel, maybe even taller than Michael, but his face is still young and from the way he’s standing it doesn’t look like he’s comfortable in his own skin yet.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Is Dean here?”

Castiel blinks a few times in bewilderment. “Dean,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue. “I believe so,” he says and steps aside so Sam can look into the cabin. The reaction is almost immediate.

“Dean! Oh my God! Are you OK?” Sam rushes into the cabin and practically tackles Michael -- Dean in a hug. Dean stands there awkwardly, patting the young man on the back but making no effort to return the affection.

“Hey. Uh, hi,” he stammers, clearly at a loss for how to react.

“Be careful of his shoulder,” Castiel warns. “It’s still healing.”

That seems to get Sam’s attention because he pulls away and looks Dean over for more injuries. “What happened to you? I came as soon as I got your message but it took me a while to get here. How did you hurt your arm?”

Dean sighs before answering the question. “I don’t remember,” he confesses. The answer seems to startle Sam, so much so that he takes a few steps back.

“I don’t remember,” he repeats, looking to Castiel for help.

Castiel takes a moment to steady himself before he answers. If his voice starts shaking it will give away his anxiety and that might make Dean more nervous than he already is. No need for him to start panicking.

“What we’ve been able to piece together,” he says as calmly as possible, “is that Mich-- Dean was a sailor. For some reason he was thrown overboard.”

Sam visibly flinches at this piece of information but Castiel presses on.

“I’m a merman. I happened to be swimming in the area and rescued him. I brought him here to rest and recover but his arm must have been injured in the fall and the trauma was enough to cause him to lose his memory.”

Castiel looks across the cabin at Dean who is staring at the floor. He wishes that he could pull him into a hug, that he could reassure him that nothing bad has happened yet and that nothing will as long as Castiel can help him. Instead, he turns his attention back to Sam.

“We were here for a few days before we found the runes on the back of his necklace. We’ve been waiting for you since then.”

Sam nods slowly and shifts his weight from foot to foot as he processes everything that Castiel just told him. “You don’t know who I am?” he finally asks, looking helplessly at Dean.

Dean finally looks up with a shrug. “It’s nothing personal,” he says.

Castiel watches as Sam takes another moment to process the situation. Then his face gets a determined look and he turns to Castiel.

“OK, I know some magic that might get his memory back, but I’ll need your help,” he says. He must have noticed the look of shock on Castiel’s face because he relaxes his posture and smiles reassuringly. “I’m an apprentice to a witch in the capitol. If this doesn’t work I know that Rowena will think of something, don’t worry.”

Castiel nods in understanding. That must be how Sam learned the spell that he carved on the back of Dean’s necklace.

“What do you need?”

Sam lists off some ingredients that Castiel can help look for. In fact, they were fairly simple to find once Castiel puts his fins back on and swims out of the shallows. He hugs the objects close to his chest and takes a moment to consider his options. He could leave right now if he wanted to. Dean seemed to be in good hands with Sam, after all. Or he could drop off his ingredients and then leave. He knows that both options are cowardly, but he isn’t sure he could face the rejection when Dean finally regains his memory and asks him to leave.

Except he couldn’t swim out to sea without breaking his promise. He had told Dean over and over again that he wouldn’t leave until Dean was ready to be on his own. If he abandoned him now what would that say about Castiel? So he swims back to shore, tucks his fins away, and walks back to the cabin.

“Right on time,” Sam calls over his shoulder as Castiel closes the door behind him. “You can set everything right there on the table.”

Castiel does as he’s instructed then steps back to watch. Sam is mixing something together in a small bowl, occasionally sniffing his concoction as if to make sure it was reacting the way he expected it to. He works in silence, occasionally adding some more ingredients. Finally, he sits up straight and sighs in satisfaction.

“It’s done,” he announces. “It’ll taste like dirt but it’ll work. Or, at least, it should,” he says, sliding the bowl across the table to Dean.

Dean looks at it warily. Castiel knows that he’s considering his options and that there’s nothing to do but wait. His eyes flick over to Castiel only once before he turned his attention to Sam.

“Listen, Sam,” he starts to say but Sam cuts him off.

“Sammy,” he corrects. “You call me Sammy.”

“Sammy,” Dean repeats. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I don’t even know you. What is this stuff going to do to me?” he asks, motioning towards the bowl that is still halfway between them.

At first, Sam looks hurt by Dean’s remark, but he quickly recovers and nods in understanding. “Well, if Castiel is right and the trauma is what caused your memory loss this will take away that specific memory. Once it’s gone all the rest of your memories should come back.”

“Will I remember the last few days?”

“Um…” It’s clear that Sam wasn’t expecting that question. “I don’t see why not. Does it matter?”

Dean turns to look at Castiel as he gives his answer. “Yeah,” he says. “It matters.”

Sam twists in his chair to look at Castiel for the first time since he got back. Castiel watches as Sam realizes why Dean is asking so many questions. Instead of turning away like Castiel expects him to, Sam nods in understanding and begins explaining the process to both him and Dean.

“The traumatic memory is acting as a wall. Sort of. Everything else is stuck behind it right now. But this potion will open a door in the wall, or at least make the wall less significant. Once that happens you should be able to remember everything, including the past few days. It’s not designed to take anything away.”

“OK,” Dean says. He’s still looking at Castiel, waiting for him to give an answer. Slowly, Castiel nods. That seems to be all the encouragement that he needs. Without any more arguments he takes the bowl, places it to his lips, and swallows the potion all at once.

\-----

Dean feels like he’s waking up from a dream. The world shift around him and he has to blink a few times before everything comes back into focus. He’s still sitting right were he was before - hasn’t even finished putting the bowl back onto the table - but he remembers now. He remembers everything.

“Did it work?” Sam asks with so much hope in his eyes.

“You know,” Dean says with a smirk, “for an annoying little brother you are good for something.”

Sam’s whole face lights up and he rushes around the table to tackle him in a hug. Dean hugs him back tightly, thanking him for traveling so far and working so hard to get his memory back.

“Well, if you can’t count on your brother who can you count on?” Sam teases as he pulls back. As if on cue, Dean catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He peaks around Sam to see Cas backing himself slowly towards the door.

“I… I’ll just… You two have some catching up to do,” he explains. His awkwardness is just as adorable as ever and Dean can’t help but smile at him.

He pats Sam on the arm reassuringly before stepping around him and moving towards Cas. There are so many things that he wants to say but they can all wait. Cas still looks confused and nervous. Dean knows just what to do to make all of his worries disappear. He moves confidently but not so fast that he spooks Cas. As he gets closer he reaches out, cupping Cas’ face in his hands and closing the distance between them.

Cas absolutely melts against him. His hands land on Dean’s waist, tugging him closer. Dean tangles his fingers in Cas’ hair, tilting his head so that their tongues can slide together. It’s passionate and familiar, exciting and comforting all at once. Reluctantly he breaks the kiss and leans back so that he can look at Cas’ face.

“I’m Dean,” he whispers so that only Cas can hear. “Nice to meet you.”

Cas’ eyes are shining with happiness. “Hello, Dean,” he answers, leaning in to brush a feather light kiss against his lips.

Dean can practically hear Sam smirking behind him but he doesn’t care.

“You made a promise,” Dean reminds him. “I’m not ready to be alone yet, Cas.”

“Then I promise to stay with you for as long as you need me,” Cas answers with a smile.

Dean sighs in relief and leans in for another kiss. There’s still so much to work out between him and Cas, but that conversation can wait for another day. The worry that was hanging over their heads this morning of eventually losing each other is gone. Dean can share his life, his whole life with Cas now. And that’s just what he intends to do.


End file.
